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Authors: Lawana Blackwell
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hair falling just below her chin flattered an angular, interesting face, and the wire spectacles served to accent large eyes of smoky gray. How odd, that a woman who spent hours daily writing about romance would be so immune to it in actual life.
Perhaps it’s because he’s not like the heroes of her stories . Fiona had read most of Miss Rawlins’ novelettes because she had not the heart to refuse when the author pressed them upon her. Other than being tall, that is , she thought, for without exception every hero was as tall as every heroine was slender. And Mr. Pitney’s dark hair and eyes would put him in the same category with about ninety percent of the writer’s heroes.
But that was where the similarities ended, for the archeologist was not a “mysterious rogue with a heart of gold” who meets his match in a “fiery-tempered woman with a mane of wild tresses.” He was just a considerate man who loved his work, opened doors for women, and attended church every Sunday. Not very exciting compared to the men who swashbuckled their ways through Miss Rawlins’ fictitious world.
Chapter 5
“I’ll be glad to see the back of this day,” Andrew groused to Julia as they climbed the stairs together to hear the children’s bedtime prayers.
Julia couldn’t help but smile to herself, for if everything went according to plan, his day would soon improve greatly. They went down the corridor to Philip’s room first. The sixteen-year-old, who had once declared himself too old for such things, seemed to enjoy the nightly ritual. But back then, he had felt pressured to be the man of the family. Now that he had surrendered that responsibility to Andrew’s capable hands, he could relax and be a boy again. Julia noticed he had tacked a copy of his poem, which the family had coaxed him into reciting three times during supper, to the wall just above his night table.
“I think I’ll send a copy to Gabriel too,” her son said, leaning upon an arm propped upon his pillow. Philip had befriended Gabriel Patterson during his ill-fated months at The Josiah Smith Preparatory Academy two years ago.
“He’ll be happy to learn you’ve become a fellow writer,” Julia said from his bedside.
“I’m not nearly as good as Gabriel. It was just a poem. And I still want to be a doctor.”
“Perhaps you’ll do both,” Andrew told him. “Look at Saint Luke. He was a doctor and wrote two books of the Bible.”
The boy smiled. “And if I’ve paid attention in church, he had some help.”
“Absolutely so, my literate son. But since you pay attention in church so admirably, you know that God still helps us.”
Julia then had to remind both that the girls were waiting to be tucked in as well. She was very grateful that Andrew took the time to chat with Philip and seemed to enjoyed their discussions. That was something the boy’s own father had never made time to do. They listened to his prayer, and Julia kissed his forehead while Andrew extinguished the lamp.
The girls’ room was the largest in the vicarage. After Elizabeth’s wedding, Laurel had asked to move in with Aleda and Grace, so the upstairs sitting room was transformed into a bedroom. Soft laughter drifted from under the door as Julia and Andrew paused outside. “What mischief are they up to now?” Andrew whispered with his hand upon the knob.
“Surely you’re aware that girls don’t need to be up to mischief to giggle,” Julia whispered back.
“Ah, but those definitely sound like ‘up to mischief ’ giggles to me.”
Andrew opened the door and followed Julia inside. They were met with an abrupt silence from the three girls who smiled at them from beds covered with pink organdy coverlets. But then Grace hiccuped loudly, which caused the usually somber nine-year-old to smother a giggle with her hand. The older girls sent her warning looks from both sides.
“What’s going on in here?” Andrew demanded with eyes narrowing.
“Nothing, Papa,” came
Perhaps it’s because he’s not like the heroes of her stories . Fiona had read most of Miss Rawlins’ novelettes because she had not the heart to refuse when the author pressed them upon her. Other than being tall, that is , she thought, for without exception every hero was as tall as every heroine was slender. And Mr. Pitney’s dark hair and eyes would put him in the same category with about ninety percent of the writer’s heroes.
But that was where the similarities ended, for the archeologist was not a “mysterious rogue with a heart of gold” who meets his match in a “fiery-tempered woman with a mane of wild tresses.” He was just a considerate man who loved his work, opened doors for women, and attended church every Sunday. Not very exciting compared to the men who swashbuckled their ways through Miss Rawlins’ fictitious world.
Chapter 5
“I’ll be glad to see the back of this day,” Andrew groused to Julia as they climbed the stairs together to hear the children’s bedtime prayers.
Julia couldn’t help but smile to herself, for if everything went according to plan, his day would soon improve greatly. They went down the corridor to Philip’s room first. The sixteen-year-old, who had once declared himself too old for such things, seemed to enjoy the nightly ritual. But back then, he had felt pressured to be the man of the family. Now that he had surrendered that responsibility to Andrew’s capable hands, he could relax and be a boy again. Julia noticed he had tacked a copy of his poem, which the family had coaxed him into reciting three times during supper, to the wall just above his night table.
“I think I’ll send a copy to Gabriel too,” her son said, leaning upon an arm propped upon his pillow. Philip had befriended Gabriel Patterson during his ill-fated months at The Josiah Smith Preparatory Academy two years ago.
“He’ll be happy to learn you’ve become a fellow writer,” Julia said from his bedside.
“I’m not nearly as good as Gabriel. It was just a poem. And I still want to be a doctor.”
“Perhaps you’ll do both,” Andrew told him. “Look at Saint Luke. He was a doctor and wrote two books of the Bible.”
The boy smiled. “And if I’ve paid attention in church, he had some help.”
“Absolutely so, my literate son. But since you pay attention in church so admirably, you know that God still helps us.”
Julia then had to remind both that the girls were waiting to be tucked in as well. She was very grateful that Andrew took the time to chat with Philip and seemed to enjoyed their discussions. That was something the boy’s own father had never made time to do. They listened to his prayer, and Julia kissed his forehead while Andrew extinguished the lamp.
The girls’ room was the largest in the vicarage. After Elizabeth’s wedding, Laurel had asked to move in with Aleda and Grace, so the upstairs sitting room was transformed into a bedroom. Soft laughter drifted from under the door as Julia and Andrew paused outside. “What mischief are they up to now?” Andrew whispered with his hand upon the knob.
“Surely you’re aware that girls don’t need to be up to mischief to giggle,” Julia whispered back.
“Ah, but those definitely sound like ‘up to mischief ’ giggles to me.”
Andrew opened the door and followed Julia inside. They were met with an abrupt silence from the three girls who smiled at them from beds covered with pink organdy coverlets. But then Grace hiccuped loudly, which caused the usually somber nine-year-old to smother a giggle with her hand. The older girls sent her warning looks from both sides.
“What’s going on in here?” Andrew demanded with eyes narrowing.
“Nothing, Papa,” came
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